


Era Festivus (Alligatorfuckhose Afterdark Reconstruction)

by alligatorfuckhouse92



Series: Femslash February | In Bloom 2021 [4]
Category: Black Widow (Movie 2020), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gladiators, Alternate Universe - Spartacus (TV) Fusion, Angst, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Creepy Alexander Pierce, Creepy Brock Rumlow, Dark Natasha Romanov, Don't Like Don't Read, Drama & Romance, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Falling In Love, Girl Penis Natasha Romanov, Girls Kissing, Gladiators, Gladiatrix Natasha Romanov, Graphic Description, Heavy Angst, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt Yelena Belova, Hurt/Comfort, I Made Myself Cry, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inspired by Spartacus History, Love Confessions, Natasha Romanov Feels, Priestess Yelena Belova, Priestesses, Prophetic Dreams, Prophetic Visions, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Romance, Sad moments, Sex, Slavery, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, The Author Regrets Nothing, Torture, Trigger Warning! Explicit Description of Torture & Violence, True Love, Violence, Yelena Belova Feels, creepy Jack Rollins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29212776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alligatorfuckhouse92/pseuds/alligatorfuckhouse92
Summary: Protect what is behind you.Respect what is beside you.And defeat what is against you.∆∆∆∆∆Alone she'll be deadly.But with the flame of love burning and illuminating her heart she'll be invincible.With her shield, sword, and spear the Untamed Thracian Lioness stands revealed against the chains of Rome.The time has come for Natalia to unite all slaves as one and lead them to freedom.Experience the unity of this rebellion.•Yelenat + Spartacus AU•
Relationships: Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanov, Yelena Belova/Natasha Romanov
Series: Femslash February | In Bloom 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136924
Comments: 11
Kudos: 18





	1. I. CABALLVS

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone.
> 
> Today is a special day for me. It's my birthday (yay) and I want to celebrate it with something very special. I've wanted to do something like this for a while now but ugh I chickened out at the last minute until I finally made the decision when I read the story of Spartacus by Ben Kane in my time in Isolation last year and the Starz series too. I said to myself, I need to show this story to all of you.
> 
> Previously as Élivágar. I did a reconstruction of Spartacus with one of my favorite pairings of the last few months. Yelenat ...
> 
> 1\. The story belongs to Ben Kane and the characters to Marvel. I'm just reconstructing some lines to adapt the story to my favorite girls in the MCU. Get your copy at Amazon. SPARTACUS by Ben Kane.
> 
> TW!: There's a lot of blood, explicit language, dark themes and violence here, just like a normal Gladiators story. (If you saw de tv show you now what I mean)
> 
> 3\. I just enjoy writing this, I don't get any money for it. ... (But if you want to show your love and support by leaving kuddos or a comment I don't mind. You give me the energy to write. 🤣😝😉
> 
> 4\. thank you for diving into this new adventure.
> 
> 5\. When you see this > < sign, it refers to the thoughts of the character in question.
> 
> 6\. Sit back, relax and enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God’s! Who are you? ...
> 
> Just a weary traveler with a lame horse ...

_**South-western Thrace, autumn 74 BC.** _

  
  
The road from Bithynia had been a long one. Her feet were blistered, her leg muscles ached, the weight of her mail shirt was making her back ache. The cold wind snpped at her ears, and she cursed herself for not buying a fur cap at the settlement she'd passed through two days prior. She had always made do with a felt liner and, if necessary, a bronze helmet instead of the typical Thracian fox-skin alopekis. But in this bitter weather, maybe warm clothing was more important than war wear. Gods, but she was looking forward to sleep under the comfort of a roof, sheltered from the elements! The journey from the Roman camp where she’d been released from service had taken over six weeks and winter was fast approaching. She should have taken less than half that time, but her horse had gone lame only two after she’d left. Since then, riding had been out of the question. The most she could ask of the mount so as not to make the lameness worse was to carry the shield and equipment.

"Any other horse, and I’d have sacrificed you to the gods long ago." The redhead said, tugging on the rope that guided the white stallion ambling along behind her. "But you've served me well these last years, eh?" she grinned as the stallion whinnied at her and touched her hand with his tongue. "No, I'm out of apples my friend. But I'll feed you soon. We're nearly home, thank the Rider."

Home. The mere idea seemed unreal to her. What did that mean after all this time? Seeing her father would be the best thing about it, although she’d be an old man by now. The female traveler had been away for the guts of a decade, fighting for Rome. A power hated by all Thracians, yet one that many served nonetheless. She had done so for good reasons. _> To learn their ways so that one day I can fight them again. Father’s idea was a good one.<_ One of the hardest acts of her life to take orders from some of the very soldiers she had fought against, men who had perhaps killed her brother and who had certainly conquered her land. But it had been worth it. 

She learned a wealth of information from those whoresons. Instructing the men mercilessly, until they fought as one unit. How vital it was to obey orders, even in the red heat of battle. Getting well-trained soldiers to stand their ground in the most extreme situations. _> Discipline<_ she thought. Discipline and organisation were two of the most vital keys.

_> It wasn't just the desire to learn their ways that made you leave your village. <_ added her combative side. _> After its last defeat at the hands of the legions, your tribe had been thoroughly cowed. There was no chance or possibility of fighting anyone, least of all Rome. You are a warrior who follows the rider god. You love war. The Bloodshed. Killing. Joining in the Roman army gave you the opportunity to take part in never-ending campaigns. Despite everything that they've done to your people, you still took pleasure from waging war alongside them.<_

  
"I've had more than enough now. The time has come to settle down. Find someone and with the favor of the gods, start a family." she smiled. Once she would have scoffed at such words escaping her lips. Now she found them appealing. During her service with the legions, she’d seen things capable of graying anyone. She’d become used to them, in the red heat of battle, she had acted in much the same way, but sacking undefended camps and villages, murdering men, seeing women raped and children killed were not things that sat especially well with her.

“Planning how to take the fight to Rome will do me for a while. The time for war will present itself again." The redhead said to the stallion. "In the meantime, I need to think about finding that special Thracian woman and stop being so lonely."

The white horse whinnied softly and nibbled at her elbow in anticipation for a treat. "Hey, stop being a brat. If you want some barley, move your ass." she laughed affectionately. "I'm not stopping to give you a nosebag this near to the village."

Above her, to her left, something made a rock fragment fall, and the redhead silently cursed herself for letting her attention lapse. Just because she hadn't encountered anyone along the dirt road that day didn't mean that it was safe. In that case, the gods had smiled on her during the journey from Bithynia. This was a time when most Thracians avoided the bitter weather and spent their time oiling and storing their weapons in preparation for the next campaign season. For a lone female traveler it was the best time to travel.

_> I’ve done well not to have run into any bandits thus far. These ones are damn close to my village. I just hope there not be too many of them.<_ The redhead thought and pretended to stretch her shoulders as she glanced furtively to either side. Three men, maybe four, were watching her from their hiding places on the rocky slopes that bordered the rough road. Unsurprisingly for Thrace, they seemed to be armed with javelins. 

She eyed the tinned bronze helmet that hung from the pack on the stallion’s rump, and decided against making a grab for it. There were few peltasts capable of hitting a man in the head. As for the shield, well, she could reach that while their first javelins were flying through the air. If she was hit, the mail shirt would probably protect her. Trying to untie her thrusting spear would take too much time. She’d carry the fight to them with her sica , the Thracian curved blade that hung from her from her glided belt. They were acceptable odds, she decided. As long as the bandits weren’t expert shots. _ >Great Rider, protect me with a ready sword.<_

  
  
"I know you're there!" she exclaimed in a firm voice. "You might as well show yourselves.”

There was a burst of harsh laughter. One of the bandits emerged from the rocky clusters and joined about thirty paces away. Merciless eyes watched the female traveler from a narrow face pitted with scars. His embroidered woolen cloak opened to reveal a threadbare, thigh-length tunic. He wore a greasy fox fur cap perched atop his head. He had scrawny legs and his tall calfskin boots had seen better days. In his left hand he carried a typical pelte, which was a crescent-shaped shield, and behind it a spare javelin; in his right another light spear bent and ready to throw.

  
_> No armor and, apart from his javelins, nothing but a dagger in his belt<_ noted the flame-haired traveler. _> Good. His friends will be no better armed.<_

"You're carrying a fine stallion." said the thug, pointing with his head at the horse behind the redhead. "A pity that it’s lame."

  
  
"Yeah! It is, if my buddy wasn't lame, you and your shitbags wouldn’t have seen me for a cloud of dust." The redhead shrugged.

  
  
"But it is, so you're on foot and alone." a second voice hissed dismissively.

The female traveler looked up. Whoever had spoken was older than the first man, with a lined visage and greying hair. His hemp-woven clothing was just equally ragged, but there was a fierce hunger in his brooding gaze. For all his poverty, the round shield he carried was well made good, and the javelin in his right fist looked to have seen good use. This was the most dangerous one. That's the leader.

"I suppose you want the stallion?" said the female traveler holding tight the rope tied to her horse.

  
"Ha!" A third man stood up. He was taller than either of the other two, he had well-muscled arms and legs, and instead of javelins carried a large pelt with a menacing-looking club. "We want it all. Your horse, your equipment and weapons. Oh, and your money, if you have any."

"We'll even take your food!" The fourth bandit was skeletally thin, with sunken cheeks and a sallow, unhealthy complexion. He had no shield, but three light spears.

"And if I give you all that, you’ll let me go on my way?" she asked, looking at the threat in front. Her breath plumed in the cold air.

"Of course." promised the first man. His flat, dead eyes, and his comrades’ sniggers, gave the lie to his words.

The female traveler didn’t bother to reply. She spun around and murmured to the horse with her most soothing voice. "Stay! Buddy." As she slipped her hand under her large circular shield and unbuckled the strap that held it in place, she heard a javelin zipping over her head. It was followed by another that drew a lower arc. It struck the dust between the horse's hooves, making it skitter to an fro.

  
  
"Hoo! Calmly!" she ordered caressing its ears. "We've been through this plenty of times before. "Appeased by her voice, the white horse stood still.

"Oeagrus, stop, you asshole!" the leader cursed. "If you hurt that beast, I'll gut you myself."

"Good! No more javelins. The stallion is too valuable.< she thought as she placed her mount on its back and turned around raising her shield. This way the skinny bandit was to her rear now, but she wouldn't risk throwing any more spears, nor would the others. Drawing her sica, the redhead smiled grimly. "Come on you idiots. You'll have to come down and fight me.

"All right! You'll regret it!" growled the first man. Using his heels to brake, he skidded down the slope. He was followed by his two comrades. Behind her, the female traveler heard the thin brigand also descending. The stallion bared its teeth and screamed an angry challenge. _> Let him try to get closer.<_

When the trio reached the bottom, they conferred for a few moments. "Ready?!" asked the redhead mockingly.

  
  
"You fucking bitch!" roared the leader. "Will you be so arrogant when I cut your balls off and stuff them down your throat?"

  
  
"At least you’d be able to find mine. I doubt that any of your scumbags have any." She said with a smirk.

  
The big man was writhing in fury. Screaming at the top of his lungs he attacked with pelt and club at the ready. 

  
The female traveler took a couple of steps forward. She braced herself by placing her left foot behind the shield. She tightened her grip and her sica. _> I need to be quickly or the others will be on me as well.<_

  
Fortunately, the thug was as unskilled as he was predictable. He drives his shield into his opponent’s, he swung a wicked blow at his head. The female traveler, rocking back slightly from the impact of the strike, ducked her head out of the way. Reaching around with her sica in hand, she sliced the big man's left hamstring in two. A painful scream pierced the air and the bandit collapsed in a heap. He had enough sense to raise his pelte, but the traveler smashed it away with a blow from her shield and skewered the man's neck. The thug died choking on his own blood.

“That was too easy." The redhead tugged her blade and kicked the corpse on to its back. Then she looked over to where the other shitbags were standing. "Who's next?"

  
  
The leader hissed an order to the skinny man before he and the cap-wearing bandit split up. Like crabs, they scuttled out to either side of their victim.

The stallion trumpeted another challenge and the female traveler sensed it rear up on its hind legs. He took a step forward and moved out of its way. A moment later, there was a strangled scream, the dull thump, thump of hooves striking bone, and then the noise of a body hitting the ground.

  
  
"My horse might be lame, but he still has a lot of temper," she said mildy. "Ow! Your friend's brains are probably decorating the road. Am I Right?." The two remaining thugs exchanged a look of shock.

  
  
"Don't even think of running away!" warned the leader. "Oeagrus was my sister's son. I want to vengeance for his death."

Unobtrusively, the female traveler lowered her shield slightly with discretion and exposed her neck, show them a cocky grin. _> Let that tempt one of them.<_

The man in the fox-skin cap clenched his jaw. "Fuck whether the beast gets hit," he said, hurling his javelin.

  
The female traveler didn’t move from the spear's path. She simply raised her shield and let it smack directly into the layered wood and leather. Its sharp iron tip punched two fingers depth out through the inner surface, but did not injured her. She drew back her left arm and threw the now useless item at the thug, who scrambled away to avoid being hit. What he wasn’t expecting was for the female traveler to be only a few steps behind her flying shield. When the bandit threw the second javelin at his opponent, it was parried savagely out of the way.

Using her momentum to keep moving forward, the female traveler punched her opponent in the face with her left fist. The man's head cracked back with the force of the blow and he barely saw the sica as it came swinging back around to hack deep into the flesh where his neck meet the torso. Blood spurted everywhere, and looking faintly surprised, the bandit fell sideways into the road. Keeping time with the slowing beast, a crimson tide soaked the ground around him.

_> I've taken out three, but the last one is the most deadly.<_ She exhaled.

The female traveler turned quickly expecting the leader to try to stab her in the back. The move saved her from being seriously injured, and the javelin slipped through the rings of her mail shirt, and into the air, causing the man to overreach and stumble. A massive backhand to the face caused him to fall on his ass and lose his weapon in the process.

With blood dripping from his nose and mouth. The bandit stared up at the female traveler with an expression of terror. "Please! I have a wife. A-a family-to feed." He stammered with terrified eyes.

"You should have thought twice before you ambushing me." The redhead growled menacingly. "This is for touch my horse!"

  
  
The bandit screamed as the sica slid into his belly, slicing his guts to ribbons. Sobbing with pain, he waited for the killing blow. But it did not fall. He lay there helplessly, losing consciousness by the moment. After a few moments he opened his eyes. His killer was watching him impassively.

  
  
"Don't leave me to die like this." The man pleaded. "Even Brock wouldn’t do this to a man."

  
  
_> Brock?<_ There was no answer, so she kicked her victim. " You were going to cut my balls off and make me eat them, remember?"

The man lay there crying, choking back his agony. "Please-please."

  
  
"Very well. "The redhead snorted and raised her sica in the air.

  
"God’s! Who are you?" in a trembling tone, he managed to whisper fearfully.

"Just a weary traveler with a lame horse." The redhead burst out laughing. The blade scythed down, and the thug's eyes widened for the last time.


	2. II. ANGUIS

Yelena combed her hair back and carefully pushed a couple of bone pins in her long blonde strands, fastening them into place. She sat on a three-legged stool next to a low wooden table, she angled oriented the broze mirror that sat there so that it caught the watery light coming in through the hut's open doorway. The shaped piece of reddish-golden metal was her sole luxury and using it occasionally served to remind her of who she was. This was one of those days. To the vast majority of the people in the settlement, she was not a woman, a relation or a friend. She was a priestess of Dionysus and they revered her as such.

Yelena was pleased with such a privilege most of the time. After a hard childhood, her elevated position was better than she’d have ever dreamed possible. But it didn’t mean she didn't have needs or desires. _> What's wrong with wanting a relationship? A lover?<_ Yelena pursed her lips tracing her finger over her reflection.

Currently, the only person showing some interest in her was Brock, the king of the Maedi tribe. Unsurprisingly, his interest had truncated the chances of any other potential suitor. Those who crossed Brock usually ended up dead ... or at least that is what was rumored in the streets. Not that there had been any before that, she told herself bitterly. Men or women with the courage to court a priestess were rare beasts indeed.

Yelena did not want or appreciate Brock's lewd advances, but she felt unable to avoid them. He hadn’t yet tried to become physical, but she was convinced that was because to her vaunted status and the poisonous snake she kept in a basket by her bedside. Her situation was even more complicated by the fact that she had to remain in the village. She had been sent here by the high priests of Kabyle, the only city in Thrace, located to the north-east. Extraordinary circumstances notwithstanding, hers was an appointment for life. If she returned to Kabyle, Yelena could expect to be performing menial duties in the main temple for the rest of her days.

Returning to her family was also out of the question. While she loved her mother and prayed for her every day, Yelena harbored two feelings for her father. First hatred and second loathing. Her emotions stemmed from her brutal childhood. Yelena's existence had consisted of beatings, humiliations and worse, all at the hands of her father. As a warrior of the Odrysai tribe, he despised her because she was a weak little girl. During the long years of misery, her sole means of escape had been to pray to Dionysus, the god of intoxication and ritual ecstasy. It was only when communing with him that she’d felt a certain inner peace, a state of affairs that still prevailed. To this day, Yelena believed that Dionysus had helped her to survive the endless abuse.

Other than through marriage, the idea of running away from her father had never crossed Yelena’s mind. She simply had nowhere else to go. Then, on her thirteenth birthday, things had changed utterly. In an unusual intervention, Yelena's long-suffering mother had convinced her father to allow her to attend the Dionysian temple in Kabyle as a prospective candidate for the priesthood. Once there, her burning determination had impressed the priests and they had allowed her to remain. More than a decade later, she still had no desire to return home. Unless, of course, it were to kill her father, which would be a senseless act. While Yelena's position as a priestess elevated her above that ordinary women, a patricide could expect but one fate.

No, her best option was to weather Brock's attentions. _ >Dionysus, let some tender-eyed beauty catch his eye soon and establish herself here.<_

It had been barely six months since she’d arrived at this, the main Maedi settlemen. Not long at all. Yelena lifted her chin. Of course there was another option. If Brock was deposed, a better person could take his place. She’d been here long enough to notice the seething discontent with his rule. Rhesus, the previous king, and Andriscus, his son, weren’t particularly missed, but Alexei, the nobleman who might have replaced them, had been a beloved and popular figure. Some villagers were careful not to do it within earshot of Brock's bodyguards, but many warriors spoke nostalgically of Alexei and his two childs, of whom one had been killed in the battlefield against the Romans and the other, his daughter had gone to serve the conquerors as a mercenary and never returned.

If only someone would step forward and harness the simmering rage against Brock, Yelena thought. A short, fierce fight and the bastard would be gone for ever. She cursed the fact that she was born so weak, and it wasn't the first time. _ <No one would follow me.<_ she contemplated the familiar reflection in the bronze mirror before her. A heart-shaped face with a button nose and pronounced cheekbones framed by ringlets of blond hair. A round jaw. Milky white skin, most unsuitable for the relentless sun that bathed Thrace in summer. A tattoo in the form of dots swirling up both forearms. Slim but muscular shoulders. Small breasts. _ >What does Brock see in me?<_ Yelena wondered with a frown. _> I'm no beauty. Striking, perhaps, but not pretty enough to attract a king.<_ As ever, the same answer entered Yelena's head: _> Perhaps, he sees my rebellious spirit and, being a king, wants it for his own.<_ It was the same fierceness that had often gotten her into trouble during her training and had also helped her become a priestess sooner than might have been expected. Yelena greatly valued her tempestuous nature. Because of it, she could enter the meaned traces easily, and reach the zone where one could meet Dionysus and know his wishes _. >My spirit belongs to no man<_ thought Yelena vehemently. _ >only to the God." _

Standing, she moved to her simple bed, a blanket covering a thick layer of straw placed in a corner of the hut. It was the same as that used by everyone in the settlement. Thracians were famous for their austerity and she was no different. Yelena sheathed the dark red woolen cloak. In addition to indicating her station in life, it served to cover her at night. She lifted the wicker basket that lay at the bed’s foot, she put it to her ear. Not a sound. She wasn’t surprised. The snake within did not like the chill of autumn, and it was as much as she could do to rouse it occasionally from its topor and wrap it around her neck before performing a rite at the temple. Luckily, this simple tactic was enough to impress the villagers minds. However, to Yelena the serpent was nothing more than a tool to maintain her mysterious air. She respected the animal and indeed feared it a little, but she’d been exhaustively trained to handle it and its kind in Kabyle.

The young blonde girl came out with the basket under one arm. Like most of the others in the settlement, her one-roomed, rectangular hut had been constructed using a lattice of woven branches over which a thick layer of mud had been laid. The saddle-shaped roof was covered with a mixture of straw and mud, with a gap at one end to let smoke from the fire. To the hut’s rear stood part of the rampart that ran around wall Brock’s living quarters. It was a defence within the circular settlement’s outer wall, reinforcing the king's elevated position and serving against treachery from within. There were other huts on either side, each surrounded by a palisade that kept their owners' livestock. The dwellings followed the winding roads that divided the sprawling village. Like the rectangular dunghills and mounds of refuse, they had evolved over centuries of inhabitation. Yelena was eternally grateful that her hut was a safe distance from any of these stinking but necessary piles.

She followed the lane towards the center of the settlement, acknowledging the respectful greetings of those she passed with a serious smile or a nod. Women with babies at the breasts and the old asked for her blessing or advice, while all but the boldest warriors tended to avoid her gaze. Children tended to be divided into two groups: those who were terrified of her anf those who asked to see her snake. There were far more of the former than the latter. There was little to leaven the loneliness of Yelena's existence. She forced her melancholy away not allow melancholy away. The god would send her a lover, if he saw fit. And, if not, she would remain her faithful servant, as she had promised during her initiation.

The crowd in front of her parted and she saw a group of richly warriors. Yelena's heart fell at her feet. It wasn't just the men’s swagger that told her who they were.

The red long-sleeved tunics with vertical white stripes, elaborate bronze helmets and silver-encrusted greaves were synonymous with stature and importance. So too did their well-made javelins, kopis swords and long, curved daggers. Yelena froze and cursed silently. With so many bodyguards, Brock couldn't be far behind. Glancing to her left and greeting an elderly woman whose sick husband she’d recently treated. A torrent of praise ti Dionysus filled Yelena's ears. Smiling, she approached the woman's hut and stood with her back to the path. With a little luck, the warriors wouldn’t have seen her. Maybe they weren't even looking for her?

"Priestess!" A voice was heard over the chatter of the villagers.

Yelena cursed silently and her smile faltered. She continued to listen to the woman's patter, but when the voice called her again, it was right behind her. "Priestess."

* * *

The female traveler didn’t linger at the scene where she’d been ambushed. Of course, the bandits weren't carrying anything worth taking from them. All she’d had to do was to clean her sica, snap off the javelin that had stuck in her shield and retie that had the shield to the pack on her horse's back. She left the bodies where they'd fallen, and she set out for the village. At this rate, they’d be lucky to reach it before dark falls. She didn't even want to think about that possibility. A few banks of yellowish clouds overhead promised an early fall of snow. However, she was in luck. Whether it was the adrenalin pumping through her mount's veins or an intervention by the Great Rider, but she did not know, but the stallion now seemed to move more easily with its bad leg. They moved forward with some speed and sighted the settlement just as the first flakes began to fall.

The cold air carried loud bleats as the female traveler looked up. Right there, aided by a pair of dogs, a young boy was leading a herd of sheep and goats on the road just ahead.

"We're not the only ones seeking shelter " she mumbled to her horse. They stopped and let the boy and the pesky creatures pass by on the stony road. "Some bitter weather coming. You're wise to head for home now." The redhead added in a friendly tone.

The boy made no gesture to go down the slope. He just stood there and demanded suspiciously. "Who are you?"

" Alexandra is my name." She lied still flashing that friendly smile. Even this close to her home, she did not yet feel like revealing her true identity to others.

"Never heard of you before." The young man replied dismissive.

"You were probably still crawling on a bearskin at your mother's feet when I left village." The redhead laughed, watching the young boy from head to toe.

"Yeah." The boy abandoned some of the wariness he had been displaying. "Maybe." He began to urging the last of the sheep and goats down the road with sharp cries and waves of his arms.

The dogs went to and fro to make sure no animal was left behind. The female traveler stood watching and when the entire flock was safely down she began to walk alongside the young shepherd. _> I wonder what I can find out.<_ she thought as she asked with an affable smile. "How's Rhesus?"

"Rhesus? The old king?" the boy asked with confusion all over his face.

"Yes." She nodded.

"He's been gone these four years. A plague kill him." The boy didn't look at her when he answered.

She didn't see it coming. To her it was disturbing words. "Then, his son Andriscus should be king."

The boy threw her a scornful look. "You been really away all this time. Andriscus is dead too." The shepherd boy looked around warily before whispering, "Murdered, like Alexei." He saw the flash of horror in the female traveler's eyes. " I know, it was terrible. My father says the Great Rider will eventually punish Brock, but for now, we have to live with him as our king.” 

"Brock killed Alexei?!" She asked in shock. That very painful words were coming out of this boy's mouth were like a javelin straight to her chest.

"Yes. Hush." the young man repeated and hissed looking around. "Keep your voice down someone may hear you. I don’t want some of the King’s bodyguards cut my throat.”

"And now he's the king?" She frowned and her throat tightened in a knot of rage.

The boy denied and said. "You'll find out."

"I see." She nodded understanding the boy's concerns.

A silence fell, which the boy did not dare to break. He wouldn’t admit it, but the grim female traveler scared him. After a moment, the red-haired woman stopped.

"Go ahead. You go on." She patted boy on the shoulder and gestured at her horse. "I shouldn't make him walk too long on his bad leg. I'll see you in the village."

With a nod of relief, the boy hurriedly began chivvying the flock along the road again. The female traveler waited until she was some distance away before she closed her eyes, feeling her tears gathering in them. Guilt nipped at her conscience. _> If only I had been here, the situation would have been different.<_ she thought, not didn't allow that feeling to linger as rubbed her eyes. _> Or they not. Maybe they would have killed me, too. Father’s decision to send me away was a good one.<_

In a way she knew that Alexei wouldn't have changed what had happened either. However, it was impossible to deny her sadness at the news of his father's murder. She thought of Alexei as she'd seen him the last time: strong, straight-backed, healthy. _> Rest well. Dear Father.<_ all she’d wanted was to come home. To stop serving her most hated enemies. To hear that her father was dead was bad enough, but if it was true that he had been murdered, there would not be welcomed with open arms. No rest. Yet to think of turning away from the settlement and retracing her steps was not an option. He had to take vengeance. Her honor demanded it. Besides, where would she go? Back into service with the legions again? _> Absolutely not.<_ It was time to return, no matter what reception awaited her. _> I do not question your will, Great Rider. Instead I ask you to protect me, as you have always done, and to help me punish my father's killee.<_ She closed her eyes and murmured a silent prayer to heaven. The fact that this meant slaying a king did not weaken her resolve.

"Come on, buddy." She said to the stallion in a voice hoarse by the knot inside her throat. " Let's find you a stable and some to eat.”


	3. III. TIMEO

Yelena slowly turned around. "Jack. What a surprise." She made no attempt to keep the ice from her voice. Jack might Brock's champion, but he was also an arrogant bully who abused his position of authority. 

  
"The king wishes to talk with you, priestess." said Jack slurring his words. 

  
Despite the veneer of courtesy, this was an order. _> How dare he?<_ Yelena held her breath and struggled to remain calm. "But we spoke only yesterday." 

  
Jacks' thin lips twisted in a travesty of a smile. Everything about him, from his striking good black mane , oiled muscles and shining armor, smacked of self-importance. " Nonetheless, he desires ... the pleasure of your company once more." The man accented each word with a suggestive and obscene tone. 

  
Yelena did not miss the brief but deliberate delay in his delivery. Judging by the other warriors chuckles, neither had they. _> Filthy bastard<_ thought the blonde girl. _ >Just like your bastard master<_ Yelena asked with a roll of her eyes. "When?"

  
"Why, now." Jack replied in surprise tone.

"Where's the king?" Yelena lifted her chin in a haughty gesture.

Jack waved languidly over his shoulder. "At the central meeting area."

_> Where all the people can see him. <_ Yelena glanced over the guard's shoulder. "I'll be there in a moment.”

"Brock has sent us to accompany you to his side. At once." Jack immediately added with a frown. "I'm just following orders."

“He may well have ordered you, but I am busy." replied Yelena with annoyance and indicated the fawning old woman at her side. "Can’t you see?"

Jack blushed in annoyance. "I..."

"Are the king's wishes more important than the work of the god Dionysus?" asked Yelena, lifting the basket's lid.

"No of course not." replied Jack, stepping back in fear of the poisonous creature inside there.

"Good." Yelena smiling inwardly turned her back on him to give the old woman her full attention as behind her she heard some angry muttering. "I don't know what you should say the king. Tell him we can’t find her. Tell him she's in a trance or something. Make something up!" snapped Jack to the other guards.

Yelena heard feet scurrying off and allowed herself a small smile. However, her conversation with the old woman soon petered out., the old woman looked nervous. It wasn’t surprising. Having the king's champion just a few steps away, no doubt staring daggers at both of them, would intimidate anyone. Yelena murmured a blessing for the old woman and glanced at Jack. "I'm ready."

With poor grace, he beckoned her into the midst of his warriors. They closed ranks smartly and Jack led the way foward, bellowing at anyone foolish enough to get in his way. It didn’t take them long to reach the large open area which formed the settlement’s centre. The space was roughly circular in shape, and fringed by dozens of huts. Crowds of women gossiped as they carried their washing back from the river. A ragtag assortment of children played or fought with each other in the dirt while skinny mongrels leaped excitedly around them, filling the air with shrill barks. Smoke trickled from the roof of a smithy off to one side; the clang of a hammer on an anvil could be heard from within. Several men waited outside, damaged weapons in hand. There were wooden stalls selling metalwork, hides and essential supplies such as grain, pottery and salt, a miserable inn, and three temples – one each to Dionysus, the rider god, and the mother goddess. That was it.

  
Like their fellow Thracians, the Maedi were not a race that depended on trade for a living. Their territory was poor in natural resources. Farming provided little more than a subsistence living, so they had evolved into fighters, whose sole purpose of existence was to make war, either in their own land or abroad. The people visible proved this point: they were mostly powerfully built warriors. The majority were red-or brown-haired, with dark complexions. Varying in age from stripling to greybeard, all had the same confident manner. Clad in pleated, short-sleeved tunics that ranged in colour from red and green to brown or cream, they wore sandals, or leather shoes with upturned toes. Many wore the ubiquitous alopekis, the pointed fox-skin cap with long flaps to cover the ears. Richer individuals sported bronze or gold torcs around their necks. A sword or a dagger – often both – hung from every man’s belt or baldric. They stood around in groups, bragging of their exploits and planning hunting trips.

  
Jack and his men attracted the attention of everyone in the vicinity. Yelena felt the weight of the of the onlookers’ stares as they strode towards Dionysus’ temple, a larger building than most, with a squat stone pillar on each side of the entrance. She heard their muttering too, and hated it. They were brave enough to fight in battle but not brave enough to stand up to the king they resented. It made her feel very alone.

The king was waiting at the temple doors. He was flanked by bodyguards while a throng of warriors stood before him. He cut a grand sight. Although he was nearly forty, Brock looked a decade younger. His wavy black hair showed not a trace of grey and there were few wrinkles on his shrewd, fox-like face. Over his purple knee-length tunic, Brock wore a composite iron corselet with gold fittings and twin pectorals of the same precious metal. Layered linen pteryges protected his groin, and greaves inlaid with silver covered his lower legs. He was armed with an ivory-handled machaira sword, which hung in an amber-studded scabbard from his gold-plated belt. An ornate Attic helmet sat upon his head, marking his kingship.

  
As Jack and his men pushed through the throng, Brock’s eyes drank Yelena in. "Priestess! Finally, you grace us with your presence," he exclaimed and held out his arms.  
"I came as soon as I could, Your Majesty." Yelena made no further explanation, only kept her face expressionless.

"Excellent." Brock made an peremptory gesture and her escorts stepped aside.

Yelena took a reluctant step forward and then a few more. She could sense Jack smirking. Turning her head, she angry glared at him, refraining herself from hurling a few curses at the bastard. The gesture was not lost on Brock, who waved his hands again. At this, the bodyguards withdrew some twenty paces to the smithy.

"You must forgive Jack's lack manners." said the king in a mocking voice. "He is I’ll suited to running errands."

_> Why send him then?<_ Yelena, forcibly dampening her anger, murmured. "I understand." 

“Good." One word was the limit of Brock own courtesy.. " It would be easier to make some more suitable arrangement." he said brusquely, stepping closer to the priestess.

"And they would be?" Yelena arched her eyebrows but deep inside she already knew where this man was going …

"Dine with me in my quarters some evening. There would be no need for Jack or any escort." Brock murmured hoarsely, looking at the blonde's face and neck with appreciation.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible." Yelena replied icily, this bastard's eyes on her making her want to vomit.

"Oh, Are you forgetting who I am?" asked Brock with an angry expression. He's the fucking king, no one can say no to a king. Much less a woman.

"Of course not, your majesty." Yelena lowered her gaze feigning demure. The prudent thing to do in this circumstance is lie and not bother this bastard. "Evenings are the best time for communing with the god, however." 

“That couldn’t happen every night." Brock growled.

  
"No, the dreams are only occasional. The ways of Dionysus are mysterious, as you would expect." explained Yelena calmly, praying that Brock would believe the lie.

Convinced by that, Brock nodded sagely. "The rider god is the same."

"Naturally, the erratic nature of their arrival means that I must always be ready to receive them. Spending an evening away from the temple is out of the question. Now, if you would excuse me, I must pray to the god." Although her heart was thumping in her chest, Yelena bowed and gave Brock a beatific smile before setting out on her way.

"Where are you going?"

To Yelena's shock, he seized her by the arm. She dropped the basket, but, unfortunately, the lid didn't open. "You're hurting me!" Yelena winced.

"You think so that’s painful?" Brock laughed cruelly and stood up to her, grabbing her by the jaw. "Know this, bitch. Toy with me at your peril. I won't tolerate it forever. Remember that I am also a priest. You will come to my bed, one way or another. And soon." Suddenly he released her and Yelena staggered away, white faced.

What Yelena would have given for a lightning bolt to flash down from the sky and strike him dead. Naturally, nothing of the sort happened. She might be the representative of a deity, but so was Brock. In a situation such as this, Yelena was powerless. Kabyle and its powerful council of priests was far, far away. Not that they’d intervene anyway. As ruler of the Maedi and high priest of the rider god, Brock was the one with all the power. She managed a stiff little bow. Brock pursed his lips twitched in contemptuous amusement. "We will speak again ." he said in a mocking voice and added. "Shortly.”

With trembling hands, terrified Yelena carried the basket to the temple doors, where she set it down. She lifted the heavy bar that held the portal closed and let light flood into the dark interior. The moment that Brock was gone, she covered her mouth as she let out a choked, shuddering scream. Her knees felt weak beneath her, and she fumbled her way to one of the benches that sat against the side walls. Closing her eyes, inhaled deeply and held her breath as she counted her heartbeats. At the count of four, she exhaled slowly. _> Dionysus, help me.<_ Yelena raised her gaze to the sky and begged. _> Please.<_ She continued to take a slow breaths. At last her silent prayers were soothing, she finally stopped noticing so much tension in her shoulders. A lingering fear remained in Yelena’s belly, however. It would take more than desperate prayers to stop Brock taking matters into his own hands. Feeling totally helpless, Yelena thought. _ >I’m in your hands Dionysus.< _

  
A discreet cough interrupted her thoughts.  
Yelena tensed and turned her head. The silhouette in the doorway was outlined by sunlight and prevented her from recognising him. She noticed a few twinges of panic before regaining the control. Brock or Jack would not be so polite. Yelena cleared her throat and asked. "Who is it?”

"My name is Berisades." a respectful voice replied. "I’m a trader."

_> A pilgrim<_ Yelena adopted a professional countenance. _ >Come in<_ she commanded, stealthily approaching him. Berisades was a short, late middle-aged man with a close- cut beard and deep-set, intelligent eyes. "You've been on the road." she said with kindly voice, eyeing his green tunic and loose trousers, which were covered in dusty. 

  
"I have come from the east. It was a long journey, but we made it without too many losses. I wanted to offer my thanks to the god immediately." Berisades tapped the purse on his belt, which clinked.

Yelena waved and guided the trader foward to the stone altar. Behind it, on a plinth, was a large painted statue of Dionysus. In one hand, the bearded god held a grapevine, and in the other a drinking cup. Waves lapped at his feet, showing his influence over water. A carved bull with the face of a man stood to one side of him while a group of satyrs cavorted on the other. At his feet lay bunches of withered dry flowers, miniature clay vessels containing wine and tiny statues in his likeness. Light winked off pieces of amber and glass. There were long razor clam shells, ribbed cockles and, most prized of all, a rare leopard cowrie shell.

  
Berisades knelt respectfully and placed his pouch amongst the other offerings. Yelena retreated, leaving him to his devotions. An image of a leering Brock immediately flashed into her mind causing her soul fell to the ground. She could see no escape from him and despair overtook her. Thinking that meditation would make a difference, she closed her eyes and tried to enter the calm state that so often provided her with insight into the god’s wishes and desires. She failed miserably, for all Yelena managed to imagine was Brock dragging her to his bed, forcing himself between her thighs, moaning like a dirty pig in heat.

"What do they call you, priestess?" she heard Berisades' voice nearby. 

  
She tensed momentarily and came back to the present with a startled but relieved shock. "Uh... Yelena." 

"You weren't here when last I visited." The man appraised her face.

  
"No. I arrived here six months ago." She denied and replied awkwardly. Trying to erase the images her traitorous mind played.

The unknown man nodded in understanding. "I remember at the time the old priest not being that well. Still, you’re young and healthy. No doubt you’ll be here for many years, to gladden the sight of all grateful travelers who wish to pay their respects."

"Um, you’re very kind." Yelena murmured, inwardly cringing. _> If only you knew the truth.<_ "By the way, the next pilgrim arrives soon." The man smiled softly at the priestess.

"No" Yelena was barely listening to him. She was already again thinking about the unpleasant Brock once more.

"I met a female warrior yesterday who was returning here. She’d have come in with us, but her horse is lame." Berisades rubbed his jaw. " Apparently, she has spent several years in the Roman auxiliary soldiers. She wants to give thanks to the tribe’s gods for her safe return. A quiet, icy woman, but she put herself across well.”

"Oh, really?" asked Yelena distractedly. She had little interest in the return of yet another tribeswoman who’d served as a mercenary for the Romans.

Berisades noticed the behavior of the priestess who had her head elsewhere. Feeling awkward, he cleared his throat and mused before bowing his head in retreat. "My thanks, priestess."

Yelena gave him a bright smile and nodded. Inside, however, she was screaming. What was she going to do in order to escape her tragic fate.


	4. IV. ADVENTUS

As they climbed the slope to the palisaded settlement, old memories came flooding back as a wistful smile appeared on his lips. Those hot summer days swimming with other boys and girls in the rushing river that ran along one side of the village. She especially loved riding the sturdy horses that served as mounts for the wealthier warriors. To go hunting deer, wild boar and wolves as a young girl among the peaks that towered overhead. Being smeared with blood as a warrior after killing her first man at the age of sixteen. Kneeling in the secret grove atop a nearby mountain, praying to the rider god for guidance. The hours of her life she’d spent wishing that her mother had not died birthing her sister, a baby that had lingered less than a month in this world. The day she’d heard the news that Rome had invaded Thrace. Riding to war against its legions with her father Alexei, her brother Bucky and the rest of the Maedi tribe. Their first glorious victory and the bitter defeats that followed. Bucky's agonizing death, a week after a Roman sword, a gladius, pierced his belly. The subsequent vain attempts to overcome the Roman war machine. Ambushes from the hills. Night attacks. Poisoning the rivers. Alliances with other tribes that were undone by treachery or greed or both.

“We Thracians never change, uh?" the redhead asked the stallion. "Never mind what might be best for Thrace. We fight everyone, even our own. Especially our own. To unite us to fight a common enemy, such as Rome? Not a chance!" She let out a short, angry laugh. She had accomplished the first part of the task her father Alexei had set her, (to serve in the Roman legions had been completed.) . She had anticipated a period of relatively normal life attempting the second part, that of trying to unify the tribes. It was not to be. The dark cloud of the war with its bloody lining had found her yet again. Yet she did not try to ignore the adrenaline rush. Instead she welcomed it. _> Brock killed my father. What a treacherous bastard. He must die, and soon.<_ The redhead clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white.

Accustomed to both her soliloquies and her silences, the horse plodded on behind her.

Two sentries armed with shields and javelins stood by the large gates of the walled village. They peered at her through jaundiced eyes, muttering to each other as she approached. Few travelers arrived at this late hour, in such inclement weather. Fewer even possessed chain mail or tinned helmets. Although the newcomer's stallion was lame, it was of fine quality. It was also white … The color prized by kings.

“Halt!" the younger guard shouted in a firm voice.

She stopped and raised her left hand in a peaceful gesture. _> Just let me in without too many questions.<_ The redhead cleared her throat. "It's an evil evening." she said friendly. _> After paying my respects to the rider god, it's one of spend by the fire with a cup of wine.<_

"You speak our tongue?" the older ranger asked in surprise.

“Of course." She laughed and cocked her head to one side as she touch her chest with the hand. "I’m Maedi, like you."

"Oh, Is that so? Well, I wouldn’t recognise you from a dog's turd." growled the younger sentry sweeping her up and down with a face of distaste.

“Me neither" added his comrade in a slightly more civil tone.

"Maybe so, but I was born and raised in this village." The redhead frowned at their expression. _> Is this the best welcome I can expect after nearly a decade away?<_ Natalia was about to say her name was Alexandra, but the young sentry spoke first.

"Who are you?" He glanced at the newcomer's arms and noticed for the first time the blood spatter. Then he looked her at the face. "Wait a moment. I know you! … Natalia?"

_> Shit!<_ "Uh, That's right." Natalia replied curtly, tensing with anticipation as she caressed the hilt of her sword.

An incredulous grin broke out on the older man's face. "By all the gods, why didn't you say, little lioness? I’m Lycurgus. Alexei and I rode together." As he spoke the older man threw a warning look at the other guard.

“I remember you." said Natalia with an affable nod. The stare she gave the second sentry was much less friendly... "Come closer. Excuse this poor foolish brat and his reckless tongue. " Mortified, the embarrassed young sentry took a sudden interest in the dirt between his feet. Approaching cautiously Natalia greeted the old man with a respectful nod.

“Things have changed since you left home." unhappyly Lycurgus look at the young redhead. " Your father..."

"I know." Natalia cut him short. She doesn't want to hear those painful words again. "He's gone."

“Yes." Lycurgus exhaled wearily and wistfully. 

“Died in suspicious circumstances, I hear." Natalia couldn’t help herself.

Lycurgus glanced menacingly at the young guard and muttered. "Neither of us had anything to do with it. Jack is the one you want to talk to."

"Jack?" Natalia arched an eyebrow. If this Jack guy knew anything about her father's murder, she would kill him without hesitation.

“The king's chief bodyguard." The distates was clear in Lycurgus' voice.

"What about Trip, Lance and Ward? Are they still alive?" she asked casually.

"Oh, yes. They've fallen from favor or any privileges, but they keep their noses clean so Brock leaves them be. " Aware of the dangerous undercurent of their conversation, Lycurgus licked his lips. " Are you...?"

"I'm tired. I've been on the road for weeks. All I want is some hot food with in my belly and a drink with my old friends. The king can wait until tomorrow. He doesn't need to know that I've returned until then." Ignoring the darkness in her heart, Natalia smiled affably and acted as if she hadn’t heard. _ >By which time, gods willing, it will be too late. Now that these two know who I am, I've got to act at once. Triplet and the others will help me<_ she patted the old man's shoulder. "That’s not too much to ask, is it?"

"Of … of course not." stammered Lycurgus. He shot a fierce glare at his companion. "Don't worry little lioness. We won't say a word to anyone."

“Not a single soul." warned Natalia putting her index finger on the lips. Hearing the coldness in her voice, both the old man and the young nodded fearfully.

"Good." Natalia pulling a good of her cloak over the lower half of her face and walked in without another word.

"What a fucking idiot!" Hissed Lycurgus as soon as the deadly woman disappeared from his sight. Grabbing the young boy by jaw. "Your almost killed us! Natalia is one of the deadliest warriors that our tribe has ever seen! Be grateful that she was in a good mood. You do not want to piss her off."

"What's she planning?" the young sentry stammered awkwardly.

"I don't know.” Snapped ,Lycurgus. " I don’t want to know. If anyone asks later, we didn’t recognise her. Understand?"

* * *

Yelena's mood was growing darker. The usual ritual of burning incense and meditation had brought her nothing but a sequence of fractured, distressing images. Most of them featured Brock, naked on a bed. Others also involved Jack, which revolted her. The more appealing – and dangerous – ones were those in which she defended herself against the king with a knife, or her snake. _> What use is there in killing him?<_ she wondered hopelessly. _> I’d have to flee the settlement to avoid being killed by his bodyguards. Where would I go then? Kabyle?<_

Yelena could think of nowhere else, but she dismissed the notion out of hand. The priests in the city would not shelter a regicide. She was trapped. Alone, with no one to help her.

Cloaked by misery, she shut up the temple and headed for her hut. The sky was full of clouds threatening snow, and she wanted to gain the safety of her door before it started falling heavily. The settlement wasn’t dangerous for most, but Brock could easily have set some of his warriors to lie in wait for her. As she hurried towards the alley that led to her home, Yelena saw a woman entering by the main gate. She’d never seen her before, but her slow, self-assured carriage attracted her attention. She was of medium height, with long red hair, and wearing a mail shirt and closely fitting red trousers. A Roman soldier's belt circled her waist, from it hung a sheathed sica and a dagger. The bronze helmet she was holding had a foward curving crest, and the lame white stallion following her was also clearly Thracian.

She called out a low greeting to a bunch of warriors who were standing nearby. Yelena recognised three of them - Triplet, Lance and Ward. Hearing the other's voice, Triplet turned his head. He frowned and then, delighted looks, he and his companions descended on the newcomer.

_> So this is the female traveler whom Berisades met,<_ thought Yelena. _> She must be well-liked if they have not forgotten her during her absence.<_ The blonde continued walking. Reaching home was more important than staring at strangers. Perhaps Dionysus would visit her at night and give her some hope. She consoled herself with that idea. A moment later, she heard a characteristic, braying laugh coming from inside the alleyway.

Recognising Jack by the sound, Yelena reacted without thinking. She quickly moved away from the sound's entrance to approach it from the side. She peeked her head around the corner and saw the silhouette of three men a short distance inside. Their slouching posture was at direct odds with the naked weapons in their hands. Feeling very weary, Yelena sagged against the house's cold wattle and daub. Brock was being true to his word. The bodyguards were there to abduct her. "Curse him!" Creeping around them to reach her hut by another route would merely delay the inevitable. In that instant, the helplessness that Yelena had felt when her father was about to assault her sexually returned. It sat in her belly as if it had never been absent, an acid pool of nausea and self-loathing.

Her hesitation seemed to last an eternity, but in reality was no more than a few heartbeats. Unsure of where to go, Yelena stumbled across the central space. It was then that she saw a second party of warriors heading towards her from the temple. Ducking her head in a pathetic attempt not to be seen, she changed direction. There was only one way to go. To the main gate. It didn’t matter that it was bitterly cold, snowing, or that it was dangerous beyond the village walls. She had to get away from Brock, and it didn’t matter how.

"Priestess!" a voice called behind her. "Wait! Priestess!"

Feeling terrified, Yelena let out a sob and quickened her pace. All she had to do was reach the entrance. The guards outside wouldn't dare stop her and the impending snowstorm would swallow her up as surely as the underworld. What she was doing was madness, but in that exact moment, Yelena didn't care. Death was better than experiencing again what she’d suffered as a child. She glanced over her shoulder and was pleased to see that the warriors were too far away to prevent her from escaping. With few other people about this one tiny victory would not be denied her.

Totally absorbed, Yelena wasn’t looking where she was going. With a thump, she collided with someone. It was only other's strong arm that prevented her from falling flat on her back. She looked up to find a pair of amused green eyes regarding her. It was the woman who’d just arrived with the lame stallion. Yelena blinked. This close, she was quite gorgeous.

“My apologies. I'm not usually make it my business to knock over attractiver women." Natalia laughed softly, holding the young blonde.

"No-no, it was my fault." Yelena hesitated, a blush filling her cheeks, still seeing those bright eyes and feeling strong hands holding her waist.

The smile disappeared when Natalia noticed the tattoos and red cloak, which denoted her station. _ >a priestess.<_ she let her go as the mere touch could burn her palms. "Oh, I'm sorry, priestess. I meant no disrespect. Why the hurry?"

"I..." Yelena stammered and glanced back. The warriors were less than twenty paces away, making their way through the desolate streets. "I have to go. Leave the village."

"In this weather, priestess?" Natalia asked in alarm looking at the priestess. "You’ll catch your death. If not, the wolves will have you."

"Maybe. "Yelena mumbled nervously and move to continue her way. "But I’m going nonetheless."

Natasha saw the guards approaching and stopped her from moving forward with her hand around the priestess's forearm... "What have you done?”

"Done? Nothing!" Yelena laughed bitterly and tried again to walk on, but the grip on her forearm was immovable, like an iron bar. Yelena didn’t have the strength or will to push against that unknown woman’s grip.

"I don't know why I get the impression those aren't coming to discuss about the weather. Who are they?" Natasha smiled and pointed her head at the group of guards approaching as she loosened her grip.

"Brock's men" Yelena repeated flatly.

"Brock?" Natalia clenched her jaw, feeling the rush of anger and fury inside _. >I haven’t thought of the prick for years, but now his name is falling from everyone’s lips.<_

“The king." Yelena narrowed her eyes curiously, this woman's reaction not going unnoticed.

_> The king<_. Natalia grimaced, lowered her face and taking a deep breath to regain her composure. " You displeased him, I take it?”

"Does refusing to go to his bed count as displeased him?" Yelena asked wryly with indignation. "If it does, then yes, that's what I've done. Now let me go."

She was too angry for priestess's worlds. Natalia let go the young girl. It's admirable to see that kind of courage and determination in this priestess. "So they're coming to take you to Brock, but you won’t have it?"

"Yes. I'll die before I let that bastard rape me." Yelena with revulsion, stared into her eyes, and was surprised by what she saw. As well as anger, there was admiration. And hate... but no for her.

"Don't move." Natalia Dropping the horse’s lead rope, he stepped in front of her. _> I need to stop this shit.<_

"What are you doing?" Yelena stammered, completely surprised.

"Soldiers might act like that in war, but not in peacetime, not in my fucking village! I thought I’d left all that behind me!< Natalia bellowed, gritting her teeth, already losing her temper. _> I thought I could go home without discovering that my father had been murdered by a man he once called friend.<_

Yelena watched, petrified, the arrival of the warriors. four well-armed warriors with hawkish expressions and a purposeful manner. Her fate is in the hands of this woman.

"Well done." Thanked the leader of the guards. "We’re in your debt for stopping that woman.”

"I didn’t stop her." Natalia replied harshly." We collided and I prevented her from falling."

"It’s of no matter how you did i” Revealing rows of rotten teeth, the warrior’s leer was more snarl than smile. “She’d have escaped but for you. We’re grateful. Now step aside.”

Standing straight with shoulders squared, Natalia in a defiant voice asked. "Why? What’s she done?"

“None of your damn business.” growled the warrior, stepping forward.

“She’s a priestess. Hardly a common criminal. Not the type of person to manhandle either, unless you want to anger a god. Don’t you agree?" Natalia spoke in a low but menacing voice. 

The warrior blinked in surprise at that. "Look, friend, we’re just following orders. The king wants to see her. So do us a favor and piss off!?"

Natalia looked over her shoulder at the priestess. "Do you want to go with these men?"

"You don't have to do this." Yelena whispered, not quite believing her eyes and ears. Her stomach contracted, the redhead might end up murdered because of her. 

Natalia ignored what the young woman had just said. "Come on answer. Yes or no?" Yelena looked at the quartet of bodyguards and shuddered.

"Well?" The redhead arched an eyebrow. "No" Yelena heard herself say. She instantly felt guilty. _ >Why have you involved him too?<_

"You heard. She’s not going." Natalia scoffed and shrugged her shoulders with a nonchalant air.

"What's your name, asshole?" the warrior ringleader hissed, raising his spear. "I like to know your name before I kill you."

Natalia with a smug smile ignored the demand. Drawing her sword, she pointed it straight at the man's face. "Ready to die? Because that’s what is going to happen next."

Even in the poor light, it was possible to see the warrior turn pale. He glanced at his companions, who also looked far from happy.

"Shall we get this over with?" Natalia roared, taking a step towards them. Yelena couldn't believe her eyes. The bodyguard's confidence shrank like a bladder pricked with a knife.

"We have nothing against you ." the guard mumbled, seeing the thin sharp blade near his face. 

"Nor I with you, but I'm not about to see you seize a priestess without a good explanation.” Natalia blurted out, moving a little further. "It was my understanding that we held such people in great veneration. That we didn’t treat them like runaway slaves."

Lifting his spear point into the air, the warrior backed away. His companions did the same. ‘This isn’t going to end here." the guard mumbled before turning on his heels.

"I'd be disappointed if it was." Natalia lowered her sword and stood watching as they vanished into the darkness.

“I wish you hadn’t done that. You’ve as good as signed your own death warrant.” Yelena said coldly, disregarding the amazement she felt at the warriors’ about-turn.

"A simple thank you would suffice." Natalia replied in an affable tone sheathing the sica.

“I don’t want another’s death on my conscience!" Yelena exclaimed.

"My fate is mine to decide, not yours." Natalia said with a growl. "‘What kind of a woman would I be if I just let a group of thugs carry off a priestess?” _> It was a rash move, all the time. Thank the Rider that none of them recognised me.<_

"A reckless woman." Yelena snorted angrily.

“Got quite the temper, haven’t you? Seeing as you don’t want my help, I’ll leave you to it. The gate’s still open." Natalia mumbled through her teeth and picked up the lead rope and clicked his tongue at his horse. "Come on, Buddy. Let’s get you stabling and some food. And better company, if we can find it.”

"Wait." said Yelena, hating hee fear, which had resurged again at the prospect of her leaving. It was also ungrateful to act like that with this kind woman. Just .. uh." She muttered and swallowed saliva as the redhead arched an eyebrow, which made it even more gorgeous. "It was noble of you to intervene. Thank you.”

"You're welcome. Was there anything else?" Natalia made to move off again.

“The king’s men won’t leave it at that, you know. They act as they please." Yelena said to get the redhead's attention.

“I can tell. But they’ll have to find me first. The settlement is a big place to search for one woman.” Natalia nodded in farewell.

"Stay for a moment." Asked Yelena rubbing her hands together nervously. Walking out into the night now seemed utterly terrifying. So too did waiting for Brock’s warriors, alone. 

"That's what I was planning to do until you decided to be rude." Natalia smiled and walked away. She was going to stay with the priestess but she was just making her suffer a little too.

"I'm sorry." Yelena replied in a breathy voice. “I didn’t want to see you hurt, that’s all.”

“Your concern is endearing." said Natalia in a gentle tone. "But let me worry about things like that."

"Very well." Yelena felt embarrassed, but she continued regardless. "Please accompany me home. I have a small shed where you could stable your horse."

“Is it far?" Natalia bent her head and gestured at the stallion. “As you’ve probably seen, my friend goes lame."

"It's no more than a couple of hundred paces. Follow me." With her heart pounding in her chest Yelena led the way. "This way."


End file.
